Faded Memories
by dancer4life1234
Summary: There were legends in haven. Stories that were passed down generation after generation. They told the tales of humans turned monsters, and the people that saved them from their terrible fate. They were our own breed of super heroes. One-shots and drabbles.
1. Are We There Yet?

A/N: Hi there! This is my second attempt at a Fanfic for Haven. May end up really good or a total fail. Anyway I was looking at Fanfics the other day and I encounter one that happens to be titled "Ipod Shuffle Challenge." And right then and there I thought,"Hmmm...I should try that." So this is it! Basically it will be a bunch of one-shots inspired by the songs that happen to appear on my ipod. And I think that it is all! Reviews are always the best thing in the world to receive, so if you got some spare time, feel free to click the pretty blue button and help a fellow writer out! Thank you and enjoy!

Are We There Yet?- Ingrid Michaelson

_They say that home is where the heart is  
>I guess I haven't found my home<em>

At the age of 3, Audrey Parker wanted nothing more than her Cabbage Patch doll, the one with blonde hair and blue eyes, back from the mean kids in room 203.

At the age of 5, she wanted a magical mother, who would come and save her, and everyone, from this pit of despair she was forced to call home. And they would fly around the world together and be so happy that her mother would wonder why she ever left in the first place.

At the age of 13, a mother was all she needed. Not the magic or flying bus. Just someone to show her different ways to do her hair (because a plain ponytail can get boring to a teenager) , and always come and cheer her on at soccer games and decorate cookies on Christmas Eve. Maybe once in a while sit and watch their favorite movie and talk about boys and other girl things that would forever be a secret held by them and them only.

At age 16, Audrey Parker wanted to be loved. By anyone, it didn't really matter to her. It could have been by a father, possibly a mother, a sister, a brother, maybe a lover. A friend or dog, perhaps.

At age 21, she was drowning in her own sorrow. Slept all day, party all night, trying to fill the void that was eating at her insides. She had built a wall between herself and reality, and wanted nothing more than someone to come and break it down but she was too proud to admit it.

At 27, she had cleaned up her act. Nothing ended up on her transcript (thank goodness) and she became the newest FBI agent. Her job was somewhat fulfilling. Her life was comfortable, as if she had place cushions everywhere to stop the pain if she ever happened to fall. It wasn't really living and she knew that, but she was too afraid to take away the things that have caught her, her entire life.

Now, Audrey Parker sat at The Gull, sipping a beer, tuning out the conversation that Duke and Nathan begun with normal tones but had risen to somewhat louder than inside voices. She studied the signs sitting behind the assortment of smuggled liquor, courtesy of Duke. Most were horrible drinking puns that made her chuckle, but one caught her eye outside of the rest.  
><em>Home is where the heart is<em>, it said.  
>She contemplated it a moment, took another sip from the cold bottle, and came to a conclusion.<br>Audrey Parker was never one for cliches. But maybe just, maybe, home was not a place, but people who loved and were loved came together. Maybe home was...  
>"Audrey! Will you tell this dipwad that I'm right?"<br>"You are not!"  
>"Am too!"<br>Home was love. Love. What she was searching for all along.

_ They say you're really not somebody until somebody else loves you  
>Well I am waiting to meet somebody soon<em>

And are we there yet?  
>And are we there yet?<p>

And are we there yet?  
>Home, home, home<p> 


	2. Sara

A/N: Next Chapter! Yay!

For a while now I have been somewhat fascinated(though previously annoyed) by the brief relationship between Audrey and Chris Brody. I wanted to write about it but just could not find the right words Then the ipod shuffle landed on this song and somehow my muse was pleased.

Again thanks for reading! Oh and reviews make me smile. :)

Sara-Fleetwood Mac  
><em>Wait a minute baby<br>Stay with me a while  
>You said you'd give me light<br>But you never told me 'bout the fire_

When he walked in, something felt different. The air was no longer full of excitement and expectation. The room seemed to lose a bit of its warmth. There wasn't the spark she swore she felt that night-more like a chill that ran up her spine now.  
>And when he kissed her, the magic was gone. She didn't feel beautiful anymore. Maybe it was just the wrong setting, she tried to assure herself.<br>She brought herself to look at his eyes and turned away almost instantly. They were full of hunger for the one thing that would satisfy him. She wasn't sure she wanted to be that one thing anymore. 

What used to be charm became annoying. He was always in a rush to get to the best chapter and did not enjoy the build-up.  
>Then he opened his mouth. Me, myself and I with a side of you seemed to be the menu for his vocabulary today. Was this the same man that had enchanted her with his words that night in the not-too-distant past? <p>

For a time she forgot about her change of heart, focusing all of her attention on saving the people in the station from a terrible death.  
>It all came flooding back to her though the moment she saw the familiar handle of the standard issue cop gun resting in the palm of that man. Only one other person knew that she hid it in the evidence locker. He had betrayed her trust. He had betrayed <em>her<em>. And he didn't even understand the half of it.  
>After the ordeal, she said goodbye. It wasn't temporary this time around. He had to be watched over like a child. She never really was good at babysitting anyway.<p>

He saw her walk away and knew that he just lost someone that would be hard to replace, near impossible almost. So he sat there in his state of shock, and let the tears roll down his face and become one with the sea.

A/N: Sooooo wadja think? Special thanks to AkiraWolfWriter for a little pre-post editing.


	3. Tusk

A/N: Two Fleetwood Mac songs in a row? My iPod must love me. Sorry for the extremely short chapter.

Tusk-Fleetwood Mac  
>Why don't you ask him if he's gonna stay?<br>Why don't you ask him if he's goin away?

Evie Crocker was never one who could stand being second best.  
>There would never be a record of it. People who knew her would tell you this. Even people who only knew her in passing could give you this exact assessment.<br>Being number one was always her top priority even as a child.  
>She didn't care how she got to the top, just the fact that she was standing there was enough for her. An infinite amount of cheating, lying, stealing, bribing, would always be worth the top of the pile in her book.<br>Evie Crocker never was good at losing games. And she refused to lose this one.  
>If there was one she would accomplish while she was here in Haven, it would be Duke's heart as putty in her hand for her first place trophy.<p>

A/N: From what one could tell, one might say I wasn't particularly pleased with the character of Evie Crocker. That was at first, then my mind was changed around the time when she died. Yet for some reason when I heard this song I thought Evie immediately and wrote this.  
>Thank you for reading! Do an author a favor and hit that pretty blue Review button! Please? For cookies? Just kidding. But reviews still are a wonderful thing to receive.<p> 


	4. Come Home

A/N: WARNING: I got really sentimental writing this so be warned!  
>Thanks for reading!<p>

Come Home- OneRepublic  
>Everything I can't be<br>Is everything you should be  
>And that's why I need you here<p>

Nathan always sensed he was different. Even before he was plagued by his affliction, he felt that he was trapped in a bubble, locked away from the world he so longed to belong to.  
>The boys in his grade tried to be nice, yet there are just some walls that cannot be broken down.<br>He'd come home after school alone. No posse to play football with in the front yard or watch tv in the basement- just himself, his backpack and the occasional stray dog.  
>Every once in a while he'd stare at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out what made him separate from the rest. He looked at himself until he went crossed-eyed but never found the answer to his nagging question.<br>"You're special Nathan," his mom would say walking up behind him," Just like the Chief. People just don't appreciate it."  
>"I don't feel special," Nathan would say in reply.<br>His mom would chuckle and place a hand on his shoulder.  
>"Well you are to me. That should count for something."<p>

This is strange, he thought, watching his mother through the window on her hospital bed. It was normally him on the other side of the glass divider and her where he was standing right now. Getting familiar to a life without one of the most important of the five senses had been a struggle at age 7, where the pain from skinned knees, stitches, and bloody noses was the only thing that truly kept the rowdy boys from doing something incredibly stupid.  
>He and his mother had a sort of ritual, where whenever he was stuck in a hospital bed, he would give her a signal to go home, that was his way of saying he was "feeling" better.<br>Now he stood on the outside, looking in, wondering if this gnawing feeling inside him was normal.  
>He looked at her. She was giving him the signal. <em>Go home. I'll be fine.<em>  
>So he left his vigil at her bed. But before he turned to leave, he gave her the standard response. Two fingers crossed for good luck and to say I love you. She smiled.<br>That night Charlotte Wuornos passed away in her sleep. She was found in the morning, lying peacefully, with two fingers crossed, brought to her lips.

Nathan sat at his desk, taking in everything. He never imagined himself in this position. Not even in his wildest dreams.  
>He didn't have the skills, the knowledge, the integrity, the strength to do what was desired of him.<br>Yet someone had believed he could do it. His mom always had. And so did the chief with a little convincing.  
>When his mom died, it was like the rock he and the Chief were clinging to in the storm had crumbled out from beneath them. The chill left behind was unbearable and the tide had pushed them apart. Yet they held in their hands something that would always tie them together. They held the pieces of her that she had left behind.<br>She was and always had been their lighthouse during the storm.  
>Nathan settled into his chair and smiled.<br>She had always known he'd stand there one day.  
>"I made it, Mom," he said," Just like the Chief."<br>And somewhere in the universe, Charlotte Wuornos began to weep tears of joy.

A/N: Thanks again! Reviews always make my day. :)


	5. Little Drop of Poison

A/N: Hey! It's been a while. I just got extremely busy with life and it sort of swept me up and I never found the downtime to continue with this. But I'm back and I'm excited to show you what I have been working on. This was by far one of my favorite ones to write so far just because I feel like my usual writing style is very hopeful and this was darker than I'm used to writing. This one-shot is based off of the song Little Drop of Poison by Tom Waits. Again I suggest checking out the songs. They are all by really great artists.

Little Drop of Poison

I like my town

With a little drop of poison

Nobody knows

They're lining up to go insane

_Haven_

The Driscolls were a somewhat normal family, living out their lives in an old Victorian on a hill by the sea. The parents were always gracious and the three children were lovely. Except for, people would whisper, that Edmund. His peers would try and get him to play with them but he would sit alone speaking to himself about things only he understood.

It's a pity, people would continue, when he was younger he seemed to be destined for something great. Now he seems destined for the Psychiatric Ward.

_Haven_

He remembers the day he had his first drop of whiskey.

Age 16, rebellious against the dysfunctional family he believed had been ruined by Satan's work. The Troubles, ha! Such a tame description for something so evil, he'd tell himself, tipping the bottle to his lips.

His parent's liquor cabinet was never locked. His parents didn't drink often. Most of the alcoholic beverages in there had been acquired through family gatherings, and special celebrations. They would never notice if he just took one for himself.

It was then in his drunken state that he vowed to banish Satan's evil for eternity.

He kept that bottle of whiskey in his room from then on.

It gave him liquid confidence to go from the scrawny child that sat in a corner speaking to himself to a leader, a speaker, and the second most powerful man in this god-forsaken town of Haven, Maine.

_Haven_

He drank a glass a day. Sometimes more.

He would have never stopped if it hadn't had been for his one prized possession. Penny.

She told, begged, pleaded for him to stop. He ignored her request until the day she disappeared.

That day he poured every last drop in the river, condemning it, naming it the drink of the devil, hoping that maybe finally listening to his wife would bring her back.

Three days later she was gone, for good. She was never going to come back to him.

Wallowing in his overwhelming grief, he lost himself drinking through the cabinet of liquor in the bar that night. The next day he found himself in the hospital with an IV attached to his arm and his head pounding like a loud timpani drum.

He swore to himself that in her memory he would stop drinking and prevent all others from doing so as well.

Yet the temptations were always too enticing and by the end of the month he found himself at the bottom of the bottle.


	6. Fix You

A/N: Hey! Long time no write.

I'm not gonna give a long list of excuses because really I just had trouble with coming up with something that I actually felt okay with putting it out in the world. This one almost didn't make the cut but I felt bad about not writing for a while so I did.

I'd like to thank you all for the support my little collection has received. An extremely big thank you to SandraDee, who took time out of her day to review every single chapter. I really appreciate it.

Enjoy!

Fix You-Coldplay

_When you try your best but you don't succeed  
>When you get what you want but not what you need<br>When you feel so tired but you can't sleep  
>Stuck in reverse<em>

For now. For now, she was allowed to cry.  
>Allowed to let fear consume her, to let her beliefs fall by the way side.<br>She had permission from the universe to feel hopeless. She was tired of hope. Tired of empty promises and empty kisses. She was ready to be rid of see-you-laters that turned to nevers.  
>She was frustrated by fighting that did no good. She never asked for any of this.<br>No one does, she supposed.

She didn't want to be a savior; she only wanted to be the best Audrey she could be. But even that seemed to much to live up to.

Lifeless. He never thought he would use that word to describe her. Relief came in a deluge when he found her. He ran to her and held her, held on tight. He felt her blood course through her veins, her heartbeat against his, her silent tears soaking his shirt. She was alive according to science. But something in her was broken.

He knew that at this moment that he couldn't tell her everything. He could not be the one who needed right now; he had to be the one giving.  
>So for now, he would be content as a crutch for her. To be strong and stoic as he had always been.<br>For now, that is what she needed and for now, that's what he'll be.

_I will try to fix you_

A/N: Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews always make my day.


	7. All This Time

Hi! Long time no write.  
>So I wrote this a while ago but I don't think I ever felt comfortable with putting out there until recently.<br>I apologize in advance about some inconsistencies with recent plot revelations, again I must point out that I wrote this originally in like, July.

This little diddy was inspired by multiple songs but I think the one song that really encompasses it is All This Time by OneRepublic. The other songs were Yellow by Coldplay, The Man Who Can't be Moved by The Script, and Black Vessel by Pearl and the Beard.  
>Again I suggest checking out these songs because they are by really amazing artists and I feel that they definitely relate the story of Audrey and Nathan very well.<br>Enjoy!  
>+++++++++<p>

There were legends in haven. Stories that were passed down generation after generation. They told the tales of humans turned monsters, and the people that saved them from their terrible fate. They were our own breed of super heroes.  
>Few people knew the tales were true. I was one of the few. My grandfather was one of the legends.<p>

00000000000

A rocking chair and a view. It's what I remember most about him.  
>He sat there every day staring out into the horizon, across the sea with nothing to accompany him except an unoccupied rocking chair, similar to his own. In all my years visiting, never did I see him move from that spot.<br>When I was around six years old, my mom sent me out with a blanket for him. He refused it.  
>"But you'll get cold," I tried to reason.<br>He smiled at me sadly. "It's okay."  
>In my determination for him to accept it, I sat in the rocking chair next to his and try to show him exactly what he was missing.<br>He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement at my stubbornness. I realize now that he was remembering her. But I am getting ahead of myself.

00000000000

We sat in comfortable silence. I tried my best to see what he studied on the horizon line.  
>I don't believe I ever saw it.<p>

00000000000

"Grandpa."  
>"Mmm."<br>"Why do you sit here?"  
>It was sort of our thing now. Whenever I came to visit, I went on the porch and sat next to him. I stayed there with him until we had to leave. It took me time to work up the nerve to ask him. I'm not sure what I wanted the answer to be, just that an answer would be enough.<br>He looked at me for a moment, and turned his attention back to the view in front of him.  
>A minute passed, two, three. No answer.<br>He took a deep breath and spoke two words.  
>"I'm waiting."<br>"For what?"  
>"Not what, whom."<br>"For whom then?"  
>"Someone."<br>"Oh," I replied disappointedly.  
>We reverted back to our usual silence.<p>

0000000000

It was weeks before I returned to visit him. The day was unlike any other day. The April torrents came to a halt. The sun shined bright above taking every trace of rain away, the longer it sat in the sky.  
>I settled down next to him and took up our usual silence.<br>And then he spoke, quietly.  
>"These days were her favorite."<br>I didn't know what to say. Turns out I didn't need to.  
>"She loved how calm these days were in the middle of all the chaos. She...she liked to get a box of cupcakes from Rosemary's and sit on this porch. She'd just watch the horizon. I liked to sit next to her."<br>He hesitated for a moment, as if he had said too much.  
>"Was she pretty?" I asked.<br>"The most beautiful woman I had ever met," he replied softly.  
>"What was she like?"<br>And he told me. She had hair so golden that the sun was envious, and eyes that danced like waves on the beach. Every Saturday she'd bake and have a simultaneous dance party. She used to like going to restaurants with really good lobster, but she never ordered it. Her favorite TV show was House (but secretly she enjoyed Gossip Girl just as much.) Tuesdays were her favorite day of the week. Lilies her favorite flower. She hated garlic and sympathized with vampires, the non- sparkly kind. She never ate cereal with milk. It just wasn't her thing.  
>She was a closet romantic. She put others before herself. Helping people was what she was good at. She knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.<br>She loved to love. She made sure you knew it too.

"You loved her."  
>"I did," he replied, "I do. And the crazy thing was: she loved me too."<p>

0000000000

When I left that day, I wanted to do something to make him feel better.  
>At school we were supposed to draw a family portrait. I drew two: one of my immediate family and one other of me with the golden girl and my grandpa smiling, laughing.<br>I ran to my grandpa's house right after school.  
>"Grandpa!"<br>I crept up the steps of the porch and saw him in his usual spot. I situated myself in my seat.  
>"I brought you something." I couldn't contain my excitement.<br>"Really?" He smiled. "Let me see..." But he was interrupted by the sound of feet on the steps of the porch.  
>A woman stood there with golden hair and eyes the color of the sea.<p>

My grandpa spoke first.  
>"You came back."<br>"You waited for me."  
>I realized this was no place for me to be.<br>I looked to the lady, "I think this chair is yours."  
>She beamed at me. I knew at that moment that she and I were similar.<br>"Bye Grandpa. See you soon." He smiled at me and I left.

0000000000

I can't exactly put into words what happened next. I cut through the house to leave, to make less noise. But I saw through the French doors.  
>She sat down in the chair next to his, and held onto his hand.<br>And she changed. Her hair lost its color, her face its youth, her skin began to wrinkle. And that made her the happiest person I had ever seen.

Some people say they ran away. Others say they were kidnapped. The closest to the truth was that they crumbled down to sand and ash.  
>The truth is not as exciting as any of these.<br>They faded. Like a memory. Slowly they became hazier and hazier until in a second they were no more.  
>No more than legends that were whispered through a sleepy town where news was slow in the morning.<p> 


End file.
